up in smoke

I rode Sopowa home from work yesterday. The moment I kick the stand, Bearswatter's lapdog comes out to greet me, cause she likes me to walk her to the mailbox every afternoon. While she's out there all absorbed in reading the doggie news, which gets delivered round the mailbox post every day, and leaving her own two cents worth, I open the mailbox. Where I find a complete and total surprise sixer in there from Roger, the First Warrior. His fave three blends.

I tried to take a pic of them this morning, but one stick has gone rogue. I know it was there yesterday. I have no clue what happened to it. All's I remember is, I went out to the garage to mount a clock on Biffy Bullfrog's handlebars, and by the time I came back it had disappeared like a puff of smoke. I do have a closeup of the wrapper, tho:

There's a seam in there somewhere. Find it if you can.

Fine savory cigars from El Tipi del Primer Guerrero, hecho a mano. I'm gonna stash these away to age until they are ready to smoke. I don't guarantee they'll all get smoked, however, cause history teaches me that I tend to hoard the home rolls which brothers of the leaf send to me. They're just too much fun to look on from time to time.,

“It has been a source of great pain to me to have met with so many among [my] opponents who had not the liberality to distinguish between political and social opposition; who transferred at once to the person, the hatred they bore to his political opinions.” —Thomas Jefferson (1808)